Contemplating Life
by TweekingOut
Summary: In which a 10 year old Craig Tucker contemplates life. Before a very un-expected interuption. Creek fluff!


**AN/ This is my first story ever where my charecters are the same age as they are in the show (lets say about 10 years old). They arnt teenagers and theres slight romance in this, but its more or less a fluffy one shot on freindship xD **

I like to sit here.

Contemplating my life.

So far I have come to this conclusion: Life is a funny thing, and it doesn't always go the way you want it. Which is why I come here I guess. To contemplate life, which leads me to contemplate why I come here to this very spot and back to life again.

And I never really was sure why I was drawn to this specific park, its big and busy, and I hate people so you'd think I would avoid it at all costs, right? Well I don't. But there's no one here, because its sun down and I learnt that by sunset all the other kids would be at home eating microwave hot dogs with their caring families.

But contemplating life is a special thing, and it should only be done somewhere special to your heart. I can't say why this place is so special to me. Maybe it's the way when the swing reaches its maximum height it feels like I'm going to fly off into the sunset, or the way the sweet smell of the grass sends a tingle down my spine.

Lastly, contemplating life really takes you attention away from the surrounding area, and you won't even know your doing it until the gate to the park slams shut and some kid walks in.

I feel intruded and hurt.

How could anyone do this? My special time, to be away from people and he waltzes in like this is HIS park. I watch with disgust as he stumbles over to the roundabout and seats himself there. I slow my swinging down, im not sure why, I wasn't going to say anything….yet.

He doesn't look very threatening. He looks fearful and clumsy. Is it just me or has he incorrectly buttoned up his shirt? One of his sleeves is falling down. His hair is a mess. He's riped his skinny jeans. He's covered in bandages head to toe and little plasters that have stuff written on them but I am too far away to see. And his sneakers are worn to the bone.

He sticks out his foot with a twitch and pushes the roundabout with him in it slowly. I meet his gaze as he twirls round.

"What are you looking at?" I ask annoyed, he invades my space and now he's oogling me.

"AGH- N-nothing!" He screeches at me, before pushin g the roundabout round faster. Curiosity ravishes me. I jump off my swing cooly and waltz over to him confidently. I stick out my foot just as he comes face to face with me and stop the roundabout suddenly causing him to let out a disgruntled screech.

"What happened to your leg." I state dominantly.

"Which one?!" I glance down at his legs to find that there is more than one bandage.

"Hmmm…" I wonder aloud, stroking my theoretical beard. I examine his legs to find the appropriate wound I would like to know about. Oh, that one looks interesting, "The big bandage on your knee." I say pointing.

"GAH! P-promise not to laugh?!" He asks meanfully. I give him an honest answer,

"Depends." I cross my arms over.

"I-I fell…" He mumbles tugging the bandage tighter.

"That's not funny, how did you fall?"

"I was attacked!" He preaches, standing up and getting off the roundabout. He walks over to the swings so I follow him and sit on the one next to him, "By a goat! I-it kept coming at me! So I ran, and I r-ran but it was too quick and I fell." He sighs.

"A goat….?" I ask unsure. That's awfully odd.

"A goat." He confirms.

"What do your plasters say?" I ask changing the subject slightly. There lots of plasters, all up his arms and all on his legs of many colours, purple, green, blue, even pink. And they all have something on them.

"P-people like to sign them. Just random-ngh-names really." He explains, pointing to a green one that said 'Kyle was here' on it.

"Can I sign one?" I ask.

"Sure th-thing." He gives me his nearest arm and pulls out a marker. I scan the arm for a free plaster, and bingo, a lovely dark blue one just calling for me to write on it. I gently scribble my name on to the plaster, "Your names Craig?" He asks, looking at my writing.

"Yes, last time I checked."

"I'm Tweek."

"Tweek? Are you a crack addict or something?" Nice social skills Craig.

"N-NO!" He blurts defensively, "That's my real name!"

"That's stupid." I mumble looking down at the floor.

"Craig's stupid." He spits back. We sit in a very awkward silence. Rocking back and forth watching the sun set, somewhere in the past 10 minutes id come to accept this kid.

"I like your hat." He breaks the silence. I look up to find him stareing at me with those big bright green eyes.

"Really? You mean it?" No ones ever complimented me before.

"Y-yes I don't lie, Craig, I like the pom pom." He smiles, pointing at my fluffy yellow pom pom.

"Thank you Tweek, I like your plasters," I smile, for the first time today, I grab his arm and point to my one, "Especially this one!"

"W-why are you here alone?" He asks. But he doesn't ask aggressively, theres a sence of care in his voice. A tone I had been unfamiliar with up until now.

"I'm not good with people, I like to come here and watch the sun set. Usually I'm here alone." I explain to him.

"M-Me neither! People are too much pressure man!" He yelps, tugging on that messy blonde mane of his.

"Soooo…You don't have any friends either?"

"I guess not-nghh" He twitches.

"Well I'll be your friend" I offer, getting off the swing to stand in front of him.

"Really?" He asks, cocking his head to the side.

"I don't lie, Tweek."

"Alright." He agrees smileing.

And that was how I met my good friend to this day Tweek. Whilst we now both have other friends, we still find time at the end of every week to go down to the park and contemplate life. Together.


End file.
